Pegasus Tears
by excentrykemuse
Summary: Draco had always loved Ivy Potter. And when he found a way to marry her, through an archaic ritual offering protection, the Slytherin in him took it. Draco/fem!Harry
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **_Enchantment Series: _**Pegasus Tears**

**Author: **ExcentrykeMuse

**Pairing: **Draco/fem!Harry

**Warnings: **chan, underage marriage

**Summary: **Draco had always loved Ivy Potter. And when he found a way to marry her, through an archaic ritual offering protection, the Slytherin in him took it. Draco/fem!Harry

**Pegasus Tears**

_Fourteenth in the Enchantment Series_

**Part the First—The Courtship**

Draco honestly believed that he had loved Ivy Potter from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. They had only been eleven years old and both getting fitted for robes. Ivy had been in a Muggle dress and ripped tights, her hair cut unevenly at her chin, but still her inner beauty had seemed to shine out of her eyes. Draco tried to impress her, but somehow earned her unending ire.

He was tempted, now, to finish with these horrible buttons. One of the seventh years had put him up to it and, well, Draco was one of the best students in Charms in the entire school, even if he was only a fourth year. The buttons were simple. They proclaimed, "Support Cedric Diggory, the _real_ Hogwarts Champion," and then flashed, "Potter stinks."

Draco hated the buttons with a vengeance but he wasn't unintelligent. Doing this would gain him favor in the house and ensure that he wasn't ever caught in the crossfire of any duels the upper years were involved in. It was rumored that Eloise Midgen had been in the middle of one during her first year, and now look at her horrible acne!

Shuddering at the thought, Draco admitted he was vain. How could he get Ivy Potter to notice him? He had been found wanting as a friend, but not as a boyfriend, and Draco was the best looking boy of his year. Yes, his face was a bit pinched and narrow, but it made him look distinctive along with his light blond hair he inherited from his father and his mother's gray eyes.

"Stop thinking about yourself and finish those buttons," Theodore Nott commanded, walking by. "We don't want to make Montague angry."

"_I'd_ be making him angry," Draco grumbled petulantly. He was taking all the risk after all.

There was only one button left and he left his wand hovering over it. After a quick decision, Draco nodded to himself decisively. No one would ever see it. Draco would make sure of it. A few charms later and it read, "Support Ivy Potter, the Champion of Wizerdom."

He slipped it into his pack and pinned it there inside out so it wouldn't fall out.

Somehow Draco ended up in Moaning Myrtle's loo a few weeks later. He had wanted time to think. Ivy had looked so sad that day, and yet he couldn't ask her what was wrong. He didn't have that right. Draco sometimes thought he never would. Ivy was too stubborn to give it to him.

Draco also wasn't blind. She had a crush on Cedric Diggory, of all people. He was the last person—okay, Weasley was the very last person, but still—that Ivy should fancy. Diggory was just so—pretty.

There had to be a silver lining, Draco thought as he sighed, leaning up against an old sink. Diggory was a Seeker. Draco was a Seeker. Granted, Ivy thought that Draco had purchased his way onto the Slytherin Team. How little she knew about Slytherins and their desire to win at Quidditch.

A sob broke through his mind, and he looked around him. The sound had come from the final stall.

Draco froze, uncertain what to do.

He was hardly one to pass up a reason to humiliate the unsuspecting Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Maybe it was Granger again. Someone had found her their first year crying in the toilet. Maybe it was a recurring event.

Strutting forward, a smirk on his face, he came up to the door, swung it open and gleefully saw—

Ivy Potter sat in the cubicle, her knees drawn up so that her pleated skirt shifted down her thighs. Her arms were crossed over her knees and her rising head showed a tear- and mascara-stained face. Her messy chin length hair was pushed awkwardly behind her ears and her dark green eyes looked at Draco sadly.

"Potter?" Draco said incredulously, quickly sitting cross-legged on the floor just out of the cubicle. "What's wrong?"

Ivy laughed hollowly. "What hasn't gone wrong?"

Draco blinked at her. _What hasn't gone wrong?_ Well, she had successfully (though recklessly in his mind) gotten her name into the Goblet of Fire, and was now approaching the First Task, which she was bound to do brilliantly. When it involved adventure and intrigue, no one could match Hadrianne Ivy Potter—not even those blasted Weasley twins. It was even rumored that she and her best friend Rosa Vane had infiltrated the Slytherin dorm rooms their second year when the Heir of Slytherin—who turned out to be Ivy's own friend Ginny Weasley, who somehow magically had not been expelled—debacle was unfolding. The rumor was they had been searching for the Heir him—er, her—self.

Draco leaned forward. "What has gone wrong, Potter?" He'd never seen Ivy in tears and was worried. She always seemed so strong, so resilient. "Was it that stupid article?"

How Draco had wanted to kill Skeeter over that ridiculous interview. When he read it he couldn't give it any credence. He didn't know Ivy intimately, more's the pity, but he knew her well enough to say with absolute certainty that she wouldn't pour her heart out to a complete stranger, and certainly not a reporter.

"No," Ivy stated, shaking her head. Her hair stuck to her wet face and she brushed it away. Draco wished that he carried hairpins on him. Parkinson certainly lost them often enough for him to know what _not_ to buy.

Patiently waiting, which was a feat for Draco, he looked at the girl he had fallen in love with. Still, she offered up no other information.

"Then what is it?"

Her eyes flashed green. "Why should I tell you? So you can laugh at me?"

"I would never," Draco began, but then he realized that he did laugh at Ivy. He was so desperate to get her to notice him that he belittled her, praying that she would notice him. It seemed to work on Pansy, although that had been an accident. "I wouldn't over this."

"Malfoy gains a conscience then," Ivy snorted before a strangled sob escaped her throat. "Could you please just go?"

Terrified of being sent away, Draco begged, "Please. I might be able to help."

Ivy laughed again, her head falling against the stall wall, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. "How? Will your father be able to buy my way out of the tournament?"

Draco didn't react at first and just stared at Ivy. "Is that what you want?" He didn't ask her why she had changed her mind.

"More than anything," Ivy quietly admitted, brushing her now stringy hair behind her left ear. "Why would he do that for me?"

No. It couldn't be—no. A ritual that had fallen out of practice over the past two centuries flitted across his mind. "He wouldn't necessarily have to."

"Of course not. Who would help the Girl-Who-Lived?" Ivy's voice was becoming hysterical. "She was so narcissistic as to get herself into this mess. She shouldn't be terrified of _dragons_."

"Dragons?" Draco squeaked, but that didn't bear thinking about. Ivy was still curled around herself and shaking. "I can make it so that you can't compete even though you put your name in the cup without the Malfoy family consent."

Ivy looked at him distrustingly. "Why should I trust you?"

Then Draco did something very, very stupid. Impulsive if you're being kind; Gryffindor if you're not. Draco leaned forward, twisting his body to his left, and kissed Ivy Potter.

He opened his eyes after a moment to see her staring back at him, completely shocked. She hadn't moved at all, just sat there as he kissed her.

Draco quickly backed away. "Right," he stated a little self consciously. Draco couldn't look Ivy in the eye. She was everything to him and he had just—how could he be quite so stupid?

"You kissed me," she stated blankly, as if she couldn't quite believe that it had happened.

Draco could feel his cheeks and ears turning pink. He hated when he blushed. His mother called it adorable. Draco thought it was entirely embarrassing and unmanly. Still, he had to say his piece. This was a matter of life and death for Ivy, and was his entire future happiness because Ivy, he had realized earlier that year, was the only girl for him. He'd never been so certain of anything in his life, even the correctness of his father becoming a Death Eater before he was born.

"If you marry me—" he said after taking a deep breath, but Ivy immediately interrupted him.

"What?"

However, Draco didn't notice. He had to tell Ivy everything, make her understand just how important this was. "If you marry me under the Rite of Pegasus Tears, then you would renounce all former ties and decisions made before your marriage. You would become unilaterally a Malfoy and my father would see to your complete safety and happiness."

"Your father hates me!"

"He'll love you because I love you," he responded snappishly.

Silence fell over the toilet. Ivy looked down at her knees, occasionally wringing her hands, and Draco surreptitiously looked at her from the corner of his eye.

"Why can't I just do this tear-thing with my boyfriend, Neville?" she asked in a small voice.

Draco's eyes widened. "You're dating Longbottom?" He bit his tongue so he wouldn't call Longbottom "that Potions dunderhead" or anything else derogatory. If Ivy was dating him, which was astonishing, then it was best not to antagonize her.

He was only fourteen, but he was proposing marriage. Lucius Malfoy had once confided that it was an art form of equal parts conviction, affection, persuasion and sensitivity.

Slytherins were rarely sensitive, but this was one of those occasions.

Nevertheless, Ivy's puffy eyes flashed dangerously. "Yes, I'm dating Neville. Why can't I do it with him?"

"You could," Draco conceded, "but from what I hear, he's under the thumb of his grandmother who would most likely not aid you. You'd be a child bride and would gain nothing from it."

"But I'm in _love_ with Neville," Ivy argued but her eyes showed her confusion.

"Are you?" Draco asked, inching closer. Ivy had ducked her head, and Draco dipped his to try and catch her eyes. "Is every breath you take filled with thoughts of him? Does he visit your dreams, haunting you? Would you rather die than not be noticed by him, even if he hated you?"

Ivy's head snapped up. "You—" she asked breathlessly, but Draco felt uncomfortable, so he did what he did best, he blundered on.

"You need a wizard not only with strong political connections, but one who would never hurt you, never force you to—consummate before you're ready and of age." Draco hoped he was sounding mature. He really wasn't certain. "And you need a Pureblood who has easy and quick access to Pegasus Tears. The task is what—the day after tomorrow? Tears are expensive and rare. Pegasi tend not to cry."

"How do you have them then?" Ivy forced out, shifting slightly, belying her discomfort.

"My family keeps Abraxans," Draco responded dismissively.

Ivy chewed her bottom lip, clearly thinking. "We'd be married."

"Yes."

"For life."

"Yes."

"I'd have to break up with Neville."

Draco took a deep breath, and breathed out through his nostrils. He ran a hand through his hair, not quite believing he had to have this particular conversation. _She was raised by Muggles_, he kept on having to remind himself. _It's not an insult._ It felt like one, though.

"You would, and you would be unable to date anyone but me." Draco caught her gaze and held it for several long seconds.

"And you'll be true?" Her voice was no more than a breathy whisper, and tears were still falling from her eyes.

Draco shifted forward, wiping away a tear, astonished that he was allowed to touch her like this, even if it were for just a short moment. "Always," he vowed.

Ivy looked at him again for several long seconds. Hesitantly, she leaned forward, and brushed her lips against Draco's. He closed his eyes in both shock and wonder. The kiss was fleeting and soon Ivy was pulling back. "How soon?"

Draco couldn't believe his ears and just stared at her in shock.

She blushed. "How soon can you arrange it?"

"I need until tomorrow at the latest," Draco responded honestly, running through the list in his head. He leaned forward and impulsively kissed Ivy again. "Shall we meet here at eight, before classes?"

Ivy nodded hesitantly, as if she were still astonished at her agreement. "That gives me time to break up with Neville. I don't want—It's too new—Tell your father, but I—"

Draco's heart sank. Of course. She was only marrying him to save herself, but Draco could work with that. Hadrianne Ivy Potter had given him an opening and he was the only one who could walk through.

"Dry your tears," he murmured. "You're safe."

"From the dragons but not—" She bit her lip, keeping herself from finishing the sentence.

Draco bent his head in sadness. She wasn't safe from him. That's what she meant. Ivy was trading one dragon for another.

Over the next few minutes, he helped Ivy to her feet, and held her satchel while she washed her face. She stared at her reflection for several long minutes.

"Do I get a ring?" she questioned.

"Once Father goes to Gringotts but they'll have to be delivered by hand. Perhaps at the Task—"

"I won't be there," Ivy answered, her voice going dead. "I can't watch them—the dragons—oh my God, the dragons—"

"They can't hurt you," Draco soothed, coming up behind her, and running his hands down her arms.

She didn't flinch and seemed to almost relax into the gesture, as if she were exhausted. "That's not what I meant. The other champions. They'll hurt the dragons."

Ivy then was sobbing again and Draco found her in his arms. He couldn't help the smile that spilled onto his face. The girl he adored was seeking comfort from him and within the next twelve hours or so, she would be his wife.

**TO BE CONTINUED …**

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	2. Chapter 2

_To all the Fathers out there, Happy Father's Day! To everyone else, I hope you have a great day with your dad, brother, son, husband!_

**Part the Second—The Engagement**

Draco had written the letter quickly and sent it off with his owl, Proserpine, as soon as he made it back to the dorm. He would receive the tears without question because he was permitted to choose his bride as long as she was a pureblood—Ivy was a half-blood, true, but her standing in the wizarding world and her sheer power proved that she was worthy of becoming a Malfoy bride. He'd also penned Ivy's request to be withdrawn from the tournament, informing his parents of the approximate time of the wedding ceremony, so that they can act on Ivy's behalf as soon as her name appeared on the family tapestry.

"Your shirt is wet," Pansy noted petulantly when he came down from the dormitories.

Draco looked down. "Oh, it is." He turned to go upstairs and change, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"Drakey, _why_ is your shirt wet?" Pansy asked.

A smug smile covered his face. "My girlfriend was upset."

Pansy blinked at him and Blaise Zabini, who had been reading _The Daily Prophet_, looked up suddenly.

"You're officially seeing someone, Malfoy?" Zabini questioned.

"Yes. As of today," he answered happily, taking a seat.

"You. A girlfriend," Pansy said slowly. "She _cried _on you and you've decided to make her a contender for the title of Mrs Draco Malfoy?"

"Parkinson," Zabini sighed. "We're fourteen. You could hardly call her a contender for a few years yet."

That seemed to brighten Pansy's mood somewhat, which somewhat frightened Draco, though he'd be loathe to admit it.

"Right. Shirt," he said to no one to particular, and headed down the stairs.

Later that evening he was wandering toward the library, contemplating the fact that he would be a married man this time tomorrow, when he overheard Ivy's voice near a window seat.

"Yes," she said to her unseen companion. "It is worrying."

"Don't worry," Longbottom's annoying voice said. "They would never give you a task where you could be killed or seriously harmed. Dumbledore wouldn't allow it."

"Accidents happen," Ivy sighed.

"Yes, but you signed up for that, when you put your name forward."

There was a long silence and Draco inched forward, his back pressed up against the stone wall. He tried to make his breathing deep and even so that Ivy wouldn't notice him, and Longbottom too, he supposed. He didn't give Longbottom enough credit to actually realize he was being spied on by his soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend's fiancé.

"That's just it," Ivy finally said, her voice betraying her anger. "I've told you a million times that I _didn't_ put my name into that stupid goblet. Why can't you believe me, Neville?"

"Because it's just not possible," he answered. "You know I've been your friend since we met on the Hogwarts Express first year"—Ivy sighed heavily—"I've seen you through thick and thin. But we both know that you thrive on danger. Remember first year with that three headed dog?"

Draco tensed. Ivy had gone against a Cerberus? When she was only eleven? How had she ever made it out alive?

His heart rate sped up and his breathing became shallower, but soon he was holding his breath because Ivy was now speaking.

"That has _nothing_ to do with this, Neville. I just—I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore."

A smile curved on his lips. Ivy was purely Slytherin. She was breaking up with Longbottom and blaming him even though she had just become engaged. Draco could just imagine what the typical Gryffindor would say: _Longbottom, I'm so in love with you, but I've decided I want to live so I'm engaged to Malfoy._ Or some such rot. This, though, this was brilliant.

"Ivy, you can't mean—"

There was the sound of rustling clothing.

"I do mean," she spat back. "I don't wish to be cruel right now, but this is ridiculous. Why can't you just believe me?"

"I believed you when you said You-Know-Who was on the back of Quirrel's head!" Neville argued, but Ivy was clearly having none of it.

But what was that? The Dark Lord was on Quirrel's head beneath that disgusting smelling turban?

"About the goblet! I did not put my name in! I don't want to compete."

There was a pause. "Fine," Neville conceded. "You didn't put your name in the Goblet."

Ivy huffed out angrily. "Too little, too late," she murmured. "It's over Neville."

There was more rustle of fabric, the sound of a body hitting the wall, and then a muffled "oomph" sound. And then the sound of more fabric.

Draco drew his wand and quickly rounded the corner to see Ivy against the window, her hands balled in her pleated skirt, and Longbottom pressed up against her, kissing her. His large, oafish hands were holding her shoulders, which either intentionally or not was holding Ivy in place.

Placing the wand between Longbottom's shoulder blades, Draco was glad to see that he stiffened and that his hold on Ivy relaxed.

"Release Potter at once," he demanded imperiously. Ivy's eyes turned to his, and she held his gaze, but he quickly flicked his attention back to Longbottom.

The oaf had turned his head, releasing Ivy's lips, although his disgusting hands were still on her. "What do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" he spat out.

"Release the lady at once," Draco demanded again, his voice harsh and unyielding. "Didn't your grandmother teach you better manners?"

A look of complete disbelief flitted across Ivy's features, but Draco would ponder that later. Now he had to deal with Longbottom.

Longbottom slowly took his hands off of Ivy, turning around and shielding her from Draco. "How dare you interrupt an intimate moment!" he declared.

"Intimate?" Draco sneered. "If I heard correctly, the lady had just ended any romantic association between the two of you. There was nothing _romantic_ about your actions."

"She is my—" Longbottom began, but Ivy stepped out from behind him, her arms crossed.

At some point, she had discarded her robe and tie, and was standing in shirt sleeves and her pleated skirt. Her hair appeared to have been brushed and was held back with some simple clips. If Draco had time, he would gift her with diamond barrettes for their wedding. He hoped that she appeared in something other than her school robes, although he realized that this was rushed.

"She," Ivy asserted, "is right here."

Draco's wand did not waver from where it was trained on Longbottom.

Ivy rolled her eyes. "Really, Malfoy, that's not necessary."

"Isn't it?" he inquired, seriously, but dutifully slipped it back into the arm of his shirt sleeve.

Longbottom looked between them in confusion, his eyes lingering on the small smile on Ivy's face.

"As my lady commands," Draco stated grandly, bowing to Ivy.

She laughed freely. "You really are something else, Malfoy."

Draco smirked. "I do try."

Longbottom was clearly consternated. "What exactly is going on?"

"I'm doing my pureblood duty," Draco drawled, remembering Ivy's hated desire for privacy. He'd much prefer to tell Longbottom exactly why he was taking such an interest, but his word was binding him to lying. Not that he minded lying. Lying was fun. Except in this case.

Ivy snorted. "Your pureblood duty?"

"Don't invite him to laugh at you," Neville whispered, but Ivy was looking at Draco steadily, waiting for him to respond.

"Every pureblood wizard is duty bound to defend the honor of any worthy maiden," Draco explained with a smile, which had just the left side of his mouth curling up.

"You mean pureblood," Longbottom accused.

"Are you saying Potter is not a lady? Perhaps that explains your actions."

Ivy's eyebrows rose and she turned to Longbottom angrily. "Is that true?"

"I—you're a half-blood—not that there's anything wrong—I—Malfoy!" Longbottom stuttered in anger.

Ivy, though, was ignoring Draco, which suited him at that moment. "So you pushed me against that wall because I'm a half-blood?" Ivy was infuriated. Draco could see it in her pose and in her very expression.

"You are a half-blood."

"And a lady," Draco interjected.

Ivy looked at him in exasperation.

"Of course she's a lady!" Longbottom blundered. "I wouldn't be seen with her otherwise!"

Well, Draco certainly hadn't been expecting that. His jaw had actually dropped, which was a fault of behavior he was quick to rectify. He snuck a glance at Ivy, and she seemed just as dumbfounded.

"Ivy, I didn't mean—"

"Just don't, Neville." She took a deep breath. "Is that why you won't look at Granger?"

The know-it-all Mudblood? Really? Ivy was bringing her up? Well, Draco was all for Neville hanging himself with the rope Ivy was providing him with, but Draco tried not to think of Granger. She was annoying and some years stole the top spot in Potions from him. At least Snape deducted points from her.

"Granger is very helpful in helping me study—" Neville tried, clearly desperate, but Ivy wasn't giving him an inch.

"So she's good for a tutor but not as a friend."

"She's not your friend either!" Longbottom tried.

"That's neither here nor there. You don't think she's a lady, do you, Neville?"

Ivy's arms were uncrossed, making her breasts less prominent, but then again Longbottom was present. Draco would rather he not see Ivy in all her glory, although she was quite magnificent when she was angry. That was the one consolation Draco had had all these years. It was, in fact, how he first came to fancy her their third year.

"You are one—"

"Because I'm famous. But I bet Mum wasn't, was she?"

Longbottom was clearly lost.

"Right," Draco said, wanting to be rid of this farce. "Let me escort you to the library, Potter." _Away from this piece of filth _was left unsaid, but certainly implied.

"Stay away from her!" Longbottom bellowed, but Draco wasn't paying attention. He did, however, draw his wand for good measure. Ivy was staring at it.

"I can make my own way."

"I'm walking that way," Draco insisted, looking at her.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I need a new free reading book," she admitted, approaching Draco.

"Ivy—"

"Leave me alone," she snapped at Longbottom, her voice detached.

Ivy didn't take Draco's arm as a fiancée usually would, but she walked beside him, and didn't actually complain when they walked past the turn off for the Library and Draco found an empty cupboard.

"I'm not getting in there," she stated.

"We can go down to the Girl's Water Closet," Draco suggested, a rogueish smile on his face.

Ivy glared at him.

"Fine." Draco rolled his eyes. Then he had looped his arm around Ivy's waist and drew her closer, giving her enough time to move away.

Then he was kissing her, and she was pliant in his arms. Her hands rested on his shoulders, tensing every few moments, and Draco just held her closer. She still didn't kiss him back, but she let him kiss her until she finally drew away from him. Looking him in the eye, she asked, "How is this any different from what Neville did?"

Draco kissed her again and this time she tentatively kissed him back. It was Draco this time who pulled away. "It wasn't forced. I gave you the choice of refusing."

"You didn't ask," she pointed out.

"I did with my movements," Draco quickly supplied. "And I think you're a lady."

"But I'm not a pureblood. I was raised as a Muggle."

Draco kissed the tip of her nose and exalted when she blushed. Perhaps he affected her just a little, he mused to himself, hoping it was true.

"A lady isn't a lady by birth," he explained carefully. "A lady is inherently born. Most are purebloods, I grant you. You are an exception."

Ivy looked pensive. "You don't view Granger as a lady, then."

"No," he conceded. "But I don't view the Weaslette as one either, and she is a pureblood."

"I thought she was a blood traitor," Ivy asked, staring at him hard. She did not, however, move from his arms, or seem to mind that they were standing outside of a cupboard.

"She is. Perhaps she is not the best example."

"Perhaps not."

Draco leaned his forehead against Ivy's and breathed in the silence between them. "And I love you."

Ivy stiffened in the circle of his arms. "I beg your pardon?"

Her words were soft, tentative, and Draco couldn't help but smile. "It was different because I love you."

"We're only fourteen," Ivy hedged.

"That doesn't mean we can't love," Draco argued, and he kissed her again, wishing the morning would come sooner than it did.

**TO BE CONTINUED …**

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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_Happy Sunday! It's that time of the week again. Now we finally get the wedding but the story definitely doesn't end here. I hope you enjoy!_

**Part the Third—The Wedding**

Draco woke up before the sun rose, and painstakingly got dressed. White shirt, black slacks, matching socks, dragon hide shoes. Black robes with a high collar. Carefully, Draco brushed his hair, every movement precise and calculated. It was his wedding day, after all.

Late last night, Proserpine had come from his father with the Pegasus Tears. There was a long letter, the first third devoted to the seriousness of marriage, the second third to exactly what it would mean to marry the Girl Who Lived, and the final third was filled with Lucius Malfoy's assertions that he would do everything in his power to protect his future daughter-in-law. There was also a small short note from his mother, expressing Narcissa's desire to properly meet Ivy and the gift of a ribbon made from Aracumantula silk.

The rings, Lucius assured, would be brought to the First Task.

When the appointed hour finally arrived, Draco made his way to Myrtle's Toilet and was surprised to see that Ivy was there before him.

"Oh," she murmured when she saw him. She looked down to her own ensemble. She was wearing a pink pencil skirt, a button down shirt with a deep v neck, matching white sandals, and her hair was pulled back with flowered pins. She looked utterly enchanting. "I can go put on my dress robes," she offered, biting her lower lip in worry.

"No," Draco said a little too quickly. He could feel the tips of his ears going pink. "You look—very beautiful," he finally choked out.

"Oh, okay." Ivy seemed to be looking everywhere but at him.

Draco stepped forward and threaded the ribbon of Aracumantula silk through her hair. He was surprised that she let him though her eyes were wide with wonder. "A gift from my mother," he murmured.

Ivy nodded.

"Did you look up the ritual?" Draco asked, clearing his throat but not stepping away from her.

"Er—no," Ivy confessed. "I got the book you suggested, but I just—couldn't—" She toed the tiles of the floor.

"Okay," Draco said, looking away. He didn't really have to explain it. "Well, we get married, and then your name will be forever imprinted on your arm."

Ivy looked shocked. "I'll be branded."

"No—yes," Draco conceded. "It will show that you are entirely _Hadrianne Ivy Malfoy_ and have no ties to either of your parents or your former self."

"I'll be branded," she repeated again.

"It was quite fashionable a few centuries ago," Draco tried to offer. "Robes were designed to show off the printed names, and it was a sign of status and affection."

Ivy stared at him long and hard. "Centuries."

"Well, I did say it was a bit antiquated," he hedged. There was a moment of silence. "Are you ready?"

She muttered, "Am I ever going to be?" before coming to stand before him. Ivy pasted a smile on her face. "Ready." She sounded less than enthusiastic.

This is not how Draco had imagined his wedding would go.

He cleared his throat and took out a separate ribbon. "It's rather simple," he explained as he wrapped it around his left hand, holding out the rest to her. "Do the same until our hands are touching."

Ivy looked at him in confusion but did as she was bidden. After a few moments of Ivy struggling with the ribbon, their knuckles were brushing against each other, and a shiver ran down Draco's spine.

"The rest should be self evident."

"You sound like a textbook, Malfoy." Ivy gave him a hint of a smile.

"With this ribbon," Draco recited, "I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, bind my life to yours and give you the name and association of Malfoy.—Now, say 'accept' instead of 'give.'"

Ivy, of course, rolled her eyes before taking a deep breath. "With this ribbon, I, Hadrianne Ivy Potter—" She looked to Draco for help.

"Bind my life to yours—"

"Bind my life to yours," Ivy repeated, "and accept—"

Draco couldn't help but smile at this, which made Ivy pause in the repeating of her vows.

"I accept the name and association of Malfoy," she finished, seeming relieved. Ivy looked at Draco, waiting for something to happen.

Draco brought out the bottle of Pegasus tears and poured it over their joint hands.

"With these tears we are married," Draco proclaimed triumphantly.

"With these tears we are married," Ivy echoed, her voice sad and cautious. A moment later and she was on the floor, crying out in pain.

"Ivy?" Draco cried, panicked, dropping the ribbon and the bottle of tears and coming up to Ivy, holding her tightly as she wailed.

"It hurts, oh God, it _hurts_," she explained, clutching her arm, and Draco removed her hand.

With the shirt in the way, he could see nothing, so he carefully unbuttoned the sleeve and rolled it up until he could see her left forearm, all the while Ivy whimpered beside him.

"Why does it hurt?" she moaned, and all Draco could do was kiss her forehead and pray that it would all end soon.

Then he saw it. Her pale skin looked like stitches of black silk were being made on it as the word _Hadrianne_ was slowly being formed.

Draco smiled slightly when he saw it. "Shh, hush now," he murmured to his wife. "It will all be over soon."

"You never said it would hurt!" Ivy accused.

"I didn't know," Draco responded truthfully. And he didn't. He knew her name would appear, but he hadn't known exactly how it would happen. The first N was now being sewn and Draco cradled Ivy's head in his hands so she wouldn't have to look at the painful ribbon.

"What is it?" she questioned.

"It might be the tears of the pegasi," Draco said, searching for some explanation—any explanation, really.

"But the tears were pure white," Ivy sobbed. The M of _Malfoy_ was now being formed. It was nearly over.

Draco kissed her lips gently. "Magic works in mysterious ways. We have magic in our veins but it still remains a great mystery to us."

Ivy continued to sob and finally, _finally_ it was done. Brushing the tears from her eyes and seeing how bruised the flesh of her arm looked, Draco lifted Ivy in his arms, and took her toward the dungeons. He passed many Slytherins on the way, but didn't acknowledge them except for a single nod. He knew they were staring. Ivy was very recognizable with the scar on her forehead and her haircut, however, she was curled up in his arms, quietly weeping.

"Potter?" Pansy screeched as they passed.

Draco paid no attention to her and continued his way to Snape's private office. If he wasn't in then Draco would gladly carry Ivy all the way to the Hospital Wing, although he wasn't certain how he'd fare on all the staircases. He knew how witches were about their weight, so he was afraid to cast a featherlight charm on his wife.

His wife!

—who was sobbing in his arms. It took all the joy over the fact that Ivy Potter, Ivy _Malfoy,_ was finally and forever his. Draco knew that he could make Ivy love him. Ivy never liked being the wizarding world savior—and Draco was determined to save her from wizarding society at every turn. From there would grow an understanding and hopefully love.

Yes, he could hope that one day Ivy would find that she loved him.

Draco knew himself enough to know that he wanted nothing less than Ivy's love and devotion.

To say that Snape was not amused when they knocked on his door was an understatement.

"What has Potter gotten herself into now?" Snape asked icily.

Ivy was about to respond, but Draco managed to speak first. "Mrs. Malfoy is suffering from a Pegasus Marriage," he explained. "We weren't expecting it to be painful."

Snape looked between the two of them, a curl of disgust on his lips. He motioned for Ivy to show him her arm.

She shook her head rather enthusiastically.

Snape growled. "Mrs. Malfoy," he bit out as if he were speaking to a small child. "I cannot assist you if you do not show me your arm."

Ivy shook her head. "It's intensely private."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ivy. He needs to see it," he tried to reason.

"You promised it could be a secret—and now I'm branded!"

"And you have tears in your eyes," he pointed out in an exasperated tone. "You're in pain. Snape won't tell anyone. Let us help you, unless you'd like to go to Transfiguration like that."

Ivy glared at Draco, but he only met her stare, refusing to give an inch on the matter. Slowly, she held out her left arm out to Snape.

"I don't think I much like having a husband," Ivy muttered to herself. She was rewarded with a kiss on the forehead for her troubles. Ivy mumbled a little more.

Snape was gently prodding the enflamed area with his wand. He eyed Ivy speculatively. "You didn't marry for love?"

Ivy stiffened at the accusation. "What does that have to do with anything?"

The words intensely hurt Draco. He knew that Ivy didn't love him. In fact, he was rather surprised she had agreed to marry him so quickly, but he didn't want the fact advertized, especially now they were married for life. Wizarding divorce was rare and inconceivable for purebloods, but still technically an option for the usual handfasting. A ritual of this magnitude couldn't even be broken by magic.

"It has everything to do with your—naming," Snape sneered. "If you were in love, this would not be happening. If Malfoy weren't in love with you, then he'd be feeling a similar pain."

Malfoy's ears pinked.

Snape looked at him long and hard before going to his supply closet. He came out with a small jar and some bandages. "I'm assuming this needs to heal quickly," he said, thrusting the jar at Draco. "You're her husband now, be useful. Apply three times a day, just before meals, and then cover with the bandages. You can come get more when you run out tomorrow." He paused. "I assume your father knows of this—union?" The word fell off his tongue as if it were a common curse word.

"Of course. Who else would send me tears from our Abraxans?"

"Who indeed?" Snape swirled around. "You can show yourselves out."

"Right," Draco muttered, seeing that tears were still dripping down Ivy's beautiful face. He opened the jar to see a mixture of Aloe and—something white. He honestly had no idea. He took a clump in his hand and waited for Ivy to hold out her arm.

He winced at the sight of it. It really was horrific.

"Why didn't you take me to Madam Pomfrey?" Ivy questioned, bringing Draco out of his thoughts.

He smoothed the Aloe over the word _Ivy_. "I told you, this was closer."

Ivy rolled her eyes. "What's the real reason, Malfoy?"

"Don't you think you should start calling me 'Draco'?" he deflected.

Ivy started. Draco wasn't surprised. Most people pronounced his name with a long "A" as in _drake_. His mother always called him by the Latin pronunciation, _drah-ko_, and he really did prefer it. He had always hoped his wife would call him that.

"_Drah-ko_," Ivy sounded out slowly.

Draco nodded, a small smile on his face. "Draco." He was now covering up the _Hadrianne_ and she was sighing in relief.

"That feels so good."

"Which is why I brought you to Professor Snape."

Ivy's eyes snapped open. "Who says that I wouldn't have gotten it from Madam Pomfrey."

"Madam Pomfrey," Draco explained carefully as his fingers danced over the _Malfoy_ on Ivy's arm, "is a busybody. She would have told every professor about our marriage, of the ritual we used which some now claim as 'dark' even though the Ministry has never declared it as such, and she would have immediately informed the Headmaster. I've noticed over the years he takes an unhealthy interest in your life."

Ivy bristled. "Dumbledore only does what he thinks is best for me!"

"How, then, does that include sending you to face dragons? How do you know anyway? I doubt he told you. He'd be too honorable to give you any 'unfair advantage' over Diggory or the foreign champions."

"Why do you want to know? Because you're chummy with Krum?"

"He's a decent conversationalist," Draco conceded, wrapping Ivy's arm. "Come. You better get back to the Gryffindor Common Room to dress for the day."

He lightly kissed her lips, briefly tasting their sweetness, completing the marriage ritual.

Ivy gasped, staring into his eyes, but a moment later, she was unwrapping the bandages. Where before there had been thick ribbons sewn into her skin, now there were only silk patches that blended seamlessly into her arm. Ivy was healed.

**To be Continued!**

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